


Untitled

by HT_fics (hundredthousands)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Hopeful Ending, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hundredthousands/pseuds/HT_fics
Summary: Tony would say he’s used to seeing himself, but something about this is different.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 24
Kudos: 80
Collections: 2019 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [only_more_love](https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_more_love/gifts).



Tony would say he’s used to seeing himself, but something about this is different. 

Growing up in the public eye, he’s perpetually had people trying to catch either his best or worst angles. Cameras have followed him since the day he was born, yet none of those photos ever seemed quite like the truth. 

The sketchbook is nondescript and would have been easy to miss in plain sight. Steve had definitely never meant for anyone to find it. Buried in a drawer of miscellaneous office supplies, it was probably supposed to stay there. It could have outlasted them all, really, had Tony’s restless hands not gone searching. What had initially compelled him to rifle through their old leader’s desk escapes him now, but eventually he’d started feeling entitled to some answers. Deep down, Tony hadn’t been expecting to find any, but the flip phone and letter had unsilenced a want inside of him. Maybe he’d just wanted to be privy to something of Steve’s, the way Steve had known something of Tony’s and kept it from him, but whatever he’d been looking for, Tony had not been expecting this. 

The drawings are all done in graphite, and, strikingly, they’re mostly of him. Some sketches are loose and gestural. There's his figure slumped on a couch, partially turned away, drawn from the perspective of someone sitting on the other end. An oblique line hints at the downward slant of his mouth, drawing to mind a hazy but recent memory of stopping by the compound, sulking after spending a full day with Ross when all Tony wanted to do was be useful again. 

A few of the earlier drawings have more detail rendered. On one page, Tony’s weathered hands cradle a mug of coffee with wisps of steam unfolding above, suspended in time. On the next, Steve has paid particular attention to the looseness of his tie, the smooth curves of silk; Tony follows the line of his neck up to where he finds soft edges of a greying beard.

Entranced and madly curious, Tony continues to flip back, going earlier still. A few months ago, Tony’s hair had gotten too long before he’d had a chance to cut it, and Steve had carefully sketched him, with his hair soft and curling, eight different times. 

Steve had never said anything. By now, Steve saying something would appear to be a sign of the apocalypse, but Steve is no longer here for Tony to tease about what he keeps under spare manila folders and toner cartridges. And since wanting Steve around to needle again is awfully close to wanting Steve back at all, Tony ultimately has to shake the thought out of his head. 

***

Returning to the compound after years of living in shadow stirs up mixed emotions in Steve. Walking past the threshold, everything deceptively seems the same.

While Vision is being tended to for the injuries he sustained in the attack in Edinburgh, Steve visits his former office. He’s surprised to find that it’s in slight disarray, but his attention immediately narrows in on the sketchbook lying open on the middle of the desk. A flush of embarrassment takes his mind off Thanos for a moment as he imagines Tony flipping through, leaving it here for him to find. Trust Tony to be able to make a pointed statement, even after all this time, even while lost to the stars or beyond them. 

His fingertips brush over the slightly textured surface of the paper. Steve could have drawn Tony’s every inhale and every exhale, and anyone looking at this would have known.

***

A few weeks have passed since the Snap. They find Tony and bring him home. They find Thanos, and Thor cuts off his head. It’s still a defeat. The infinity stones are gone. 

Landing back on Earth, Steve feels the teeth of this new reality gripping him harder, swallowing him whole. 

Rhodes had updated Tony about the failed mission sometime while Steve was cleaning himself up. Now Tony’s asleep again, still recovering. Steve wants to be there the next time Tony wakes, though he doesn’t know what he’ll say. Saving the world could have been an apology, but now he has nothing to offer except a plea for company. 

For the first time in a long time, Steve picks up a pencil and the sketchbook from his office. He makes his way to Tony’s medical room, sits down on a chair by the bed, and sets out to work as Tony sleeps. He draws Tony, as he invariably does, and contemplates sketching him as he was years ago, before they lost. In the end, Steve chooses to draw Tony as he’d looked returning to Earth, sinking into Pepper’s arms, the heaviness of his head on her shoulder, the weariness, the relief. Steve had been right there, in the thick of this moment, but he hadn’t been part of it. 

“You ever draw us, together?”

Steve startles. He looks up to find Tony now lying on his side, looking straight at Steve. Tony’s eyes are narrowed like he’s trying to figure something out, but there’s also a familiar suggestive glint in them despite the exhaustion that still lingers.

Steve gets Tony some water to drink and returns to the chair, picking up his drawing materials from where he’d left them on the seat. He can tell he’s being prodded, but Steve replies evenly, “No, I never did.”

Tony’s a little sharper now. He shifts to prop himself up higher in bed. “Did you ever want to?”

Steve averts his gaze and starts to fidget. Almost by its own accord, his hand makes some more cross-hatching marks on the page. Returning to his sketchbook has always been the easiest thing to do.

Despite everything Steve’s telegraphing, Tony presses on. “Steve, when you said ‘together,’ did you mean … ”

“Tony,” Steve says to stop him from finishing. Revisiting this now would only hurt them both, and Steve isn’t sure if he’s strong enough, after everything. “I don’t know.” 

Steve scrambles to think of a way to explain his feelings and subsequent actions, but Tony appears to have accepted Steve’s dearth of answers tonight and, having exposed that now, doesn’t dig further. 

Tony looks tired, breaking eye contact to focus on a spot on the wall, and Steve contemplates leaving so as to not make things worse. He had, however, come here for a reason. Maybe he does have something to offer after all. 

“Do you want to see?” Steve asks.

It’s Tony’s turn to look slightly surprised, but he makes a small motion for Steve to reveal his work.

Steve presents the sketch to Tony, who studies it for a long time before his eyes soften. Steve feels vulnerable in a way he hasn’t since he’d made his first drawing of the man and decided to keep it. It had felt like he was young again, shyly trying on a beautiful hat he couldn’t afford but stealing a glance in the mirror anyway.

“You know, you really don’t hold back,” Tony says lightly. He raises a hand to brush his knuckles over a prominent cheekbone. “Space did a number on me.”

Steve turns the book back around and considers his depiction. Being stranded and injured with little food and water had taken its toll, but Tony looks like a survivor. He looks like someone who will never stop fighting. 

Steve runs a finger along the cheekbone he’s drawn on the page, murmurs, “I’m really glad you’re here, Tony.” The corner of his mouth quirks up, and his eyes flit back toward the bed.

Tony holds Steve’s gaze for a moment. The expression there isn’t one Steve can definitively place, but it reminds him of the kind of relief he’d been trying to capture on paper just then. After the moment passes, Tony shifts to lie on his back, settling in. He lets his eyes fall shut. “Yeah. I’m glad you’re here, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> only_more_love, I hope you enjoy! Happy Holidays!
> 
> Huge thanks to FestiveFerret for beta-reading and helping me put this together! 
> 
> Lastly, thanks to the event mods for all their hard work organizing this!


End file.
